


Don’t let go

by Taeyn



Series: not quite shakespeare [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Affection, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Riverdale 1x09, Tenderness, Trust, accidental love confession, sleepovers at Betty’s house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 19:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10577625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taeyn/pseuds/Taeyn
Summary: He hadn’t meant to say it, and when his lids bounced back open a second later, Betty saw he was as stunned as her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [overcomingthedark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcomingthedark/gifts).



> Did anyone else tear-up at Juggie’s line, _‘so don’t… don’t let go’_ in chapter nine this week? :’ > Or just… every single thing... these two ever do? *^^*;; Heh. All my love, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! <3! x

The lamp smudged to black, Betty reached her hand from her quilt to the fold-out mattress beside. The spare blanket rustled and Juggie’s fingers caught against hers, silently squeezed. He tugged, gentle, pulled her hand down to his pillow and nestled it under his cheek. In the dark, Betty smiled. She could imagine him doing the same with some worn old toy.

“Hey, you,” she said softly, “it’s cold.”

“My hands are too cold?” Jughead mumbled, sniffed and shuffled further under the blanket. It _was_ a cold night. There was always one, just before the Spring, a last few hours that were Winter’s to keep.

There were others the frost would never let go.

“ _My_ hands are too cold,” Betty whispered, the suggestion no more than a husky laugh.

She hadn’t exactly planned it. Her boyfriend spending the night wasn’t something she thought she’d _ever_ get to plan.

Juggie had gone still and quiet, and Betty peeked over the edge of her mattress to check he was okay.

“I mean, only if you-”

“-of course I do,” Jughead said gently, and Betty’s mouth crumpled to a shy grin. Propping herself up on one elbow, she tucked back the quilt on the side closest to Juggie, nudged her pillow to the middle. He nestled-in next to her, all long limbs and woolen layers, his arms tangled against his chest for lack of knowing where to put them.

“Here…” Betty murmured, tentative, raised her sleeve.

“Cuddle?” Jughead asked self-consciously, and Betty couldn’t help an affectionate twitch.

“This is the universal code for _would you like to cuddle,_ ” Betty confirmed, and that at least had the intended effect of making him laugh.

“Sorry,” Jughead grinned, “my rapid response skills pretty much got checked at the words _‘can Jughead stay over?_ ’”

“You’re talking to the person who mistook milk for maple syrup when mom actually said _yes_ ,” Betty laughed in return.

“That was a mistake? I _love_ milk-drowned pancakes,” Jughead said wryly.

“Um, Juggie,” Betty raised an eyebrow, “you know with you, it's tricky to tell if that was a joke.”

She laughed at his deadpan stare, pulled him into an embrace. For all the teasing, Jughead knew better than anyone how much the night really meant. A few months ago, her mom hadn’t even trusted her to choose her own friends. Now, for all the hurt and the tears…

They were finally on the same side.

“Hey…”

When Betty’s eyes cleared, Jughead flinched her a smile, and for all his shadows he was gentle. She curled her fingers into his, his palms scratchy where he wore a pair of cutoff gloves. Tender, she tugged absent minded at a loose thread, then noticed he was still wearing his beanie too. And fleece. And… several jumpers.

“I’ll grab an extra blanket.” Betty leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. If anything, he felt warm, and Betty worriedly swapped her hand to his brow instead. Jughead blinked, quizzical, then softened when he realised.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly, though the way he held his breath seemed to say a lot more. Betty waited, didn’t push. Being there for someone didn’t always mean talking. Sometimes, the just _being there_ part was harder, especially when you wanted to move the whole world.

“Before I lived with Archie…” Jughead paused, his jaw clenched and wary. His voice was low, and though he was facing her, his eyes had dulled beyond where she could see. Betty squeezed his hand, his exhale warm on her knuckles. Whatever happened, whatever it is…

_Did he used to live with the Serpents? Did he have to sleep fully clothed in case he needed to make a getaway, at any time of the night?_

“You can tell me,” Betty murmured, her grip firm and voice unwavering. “Whatever you say, I’m here. And if you’re not ready yet…”

Her mouth pulled down at the corners when she saw his did too.

“-then I’m _still_ here,” Betty whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jughead breathed out, something aching and torn. He stared at her- he was really the only person who could make wounded beautiful, make grateful so _intense-_ and when he spoke again, the hesitation had gone. It was just them.

_Just us._

“Before I moved in with Archie,” Jughead braced, cleared his throat. “I was sleeping in an abandoned stairway in the school. And before that, the projection studio at the drive-in.”

Betty was holding his hand tighter than she knew she could.

“...and it was freezing,” he admitted. “It was horribly, _horribly_ freezing. I used to wear every coat I owned, and still woke up feeling like every muscle had been punched. I thought it was from sleeping on concrete. It turned out it was from _shivering_ all night.”

He rolled his eyes, as if this was some incredulous joke or oversight on his behalf. Betty stared at him aghast, a few extra jumpers now the last thing on her mind. Jughead hadn’t had a _home?_

“I mean, living in the school had it's moments,” Jughead added quickly, ghosted a laugh. “Once, I didn’t realise the gymnasium locks from the outside- cue all night basketball practice. Oh, and those biochem videos with the stop-motion cell splitting? _So_ much cooler projected on the laboratory ceiling. And speaking of biology, there’s a tin of instant coffee at the back of the teachers supply closet with probably at least ten undiscovered life forms since-”

“-since we exploded that science fair project and Moose thought _aliens_ were landing at the back of the hall?”

Jughead stopped, blinked at her in surprise. He was trembling, and Betty offered a hushed smile, wrapped them closer into the quilt.

He didn’t want sympathy.

He wanted to know it was okay.

“Or... the time Archie mowed a crop circle in Reggie Mantle’s lawn?” Jughead said slowly, the beginnings of a smile pinching the corner of his mouth.

“Or when Kevin got ‘Ghostbusters’ listed as a hotline on the school emergency register?” Betty hid behind her hands as she blushed at the memory. At that Jughead muffled a snorting sound.

“Hey, that’s a legitimate emergency service,” he laughed. “The goo-dripping library walls are a Riverdale High _landmark_ , right up there with the spontaneously flooding water-fountain and mysterious ectoplasm they call _cafeteria food_.”

They swapped grins, the falling snow spinding shadows across Betty’s quilt. Gently, Jughead dipped his brow to hers, Betty coursed her fingers beneath his gloves so their palms touched. Juggie smiled; a rough, uneven thing, the smile he saved only for her.

“I knew I loved you even then,” Jughead murmured, his eyes fond as they flickered closed.

He hadn’t meant to say it, and when his lids bounced back open a second later, Betty saw he was as stunned as her. His mouth parted, in astonishment or worry or a mixture of both, before-

“Betty, I-”

“I love you too,” Betty said at the same time, the words between them before she even meant to. This wasn’t something she needed to plan, it came out as easily as everything she ever knew. “I love you _and_ I have the biggest, dorkiest crush on you, however that works-”

Jughead spluttered a laugh.

“And, if you ever, _ever_ need somewhere to go or stay again-”

“I know,” said Jughead, his voice caught as he held her close. “I will. I promise.”

“Come here,” Betty whispered, wrapped her limbs into his. He was warm, the tension gone from his frame as he tucked into her side. She wanted to tell him again, tell him every time she’d _thought_ about telling him, and all of the others she very nearly did. And he was smiling. Smiling because he knew he’d get there first.

“I love you, Betty Cooper,” Jughead said softly, “and I always have.”

-


End file.
